An arsonists cookbook

Chapter 13: Emile Kovač

As he began to understand the muffled voices and distorted silhouettes, Emile finally realised he was beginning to come back around. His nightmare seemed over, although he was still find out the news about his brother. He thought everything would be okay once he got out of that bed, he was so very wrong. He was lucky to survive the medically induced coma the doctors had put him, without it he would have died due to the amount his pain his body would have had to cope with. He only had one percent chance of surviving it but somehow he made it through. As he tried to shift some of his body weight from his left to his right but when he tried to move his left leg, he could not feel anything. Huh? Maybe it's just the anaesthetic making my leg numb, I was pretty hurt. Emile's heart filled with sadness and distraught as he looked down, he witnessed the sorry faces of the doctors before anything else. His left leg was gone, the doctors had amputated it. His arm in bandages, due to the burns he had sustained. His right leg, which was stripped of most layers of skin, was barely hanging on by a thread. He started to be filled with hate. How dare they do this to me! They have no right to take my mobility! Deep down he knew it was for his own good but he couldn't help but hate the doctors taking care of him. To him, they had taken away the one thing he'd have left, his freedom to flee from his family. He couldn't any more, he knew he'd be stuck in the depressing cycle of self-harm and medication, the world of love he knew for his brother was about to be destroyed in front of him. His parents delivered the bad news and that's when Emile couldn't take it. He began to swing around frantically in the air. Missing everything he was aiming for, the anaesthetic was still in full effect. He tussled with one of the male doctors before being sedated and passing back out.

He awoke hours later to a disgusted face, his fathers,
"You have failed me, you are nothing to do with us! You're going to be up for adoption, we could barely deal with you when you were mobile, never mind immobile and useless! You make me sick!" his father said in Czechoslovakian, he had made his opinion clear. Emile broke down, he couldn't help but realise that he was going to sooner or later be in a loving family, the tears he shed weren't those of sadness but those of pure happiness. He wouldn't ever have to see his dastardly parents ever again. I'm free!